The Jeweled Spur (18 page)

“Here we are,” Danton said finally. He stretched his legs and arms, saying, “I’ll be glad to get rid of you two.”

“Aw, now I don’t feel that way, Mr. Danton,” Shorty said cheerfully. “You been the best guard I ever had, and that’s no lie.”

Danton ignored this and climbed down. “All right, out of there.”

Cody got out of the stage awkwardly, handicapped by his chains. One of them caught, and he stumbled and fell, almost pulling Shorty down with him. A rough laugh scored the air, and he was yanked to his feet as if he’d been a child. “Can’t even get out of a stage, con?” The man who held him was over six feet four and powerfully built. He wore a white suit with a white planter’s hat, and his eyes were hard as bolts. “Come on, con, get up.”

“Hello, Captain Valentine,” Shorty said, hopping to his feet. “Good to see you again.”

The huge man stared at him, and then he snorted. “You again, Cavanaugh? You didn’t get enough your last two trips?”

“Well, I’m back, Captain!” Shorty grinned. “Looks like you’ll be having me as a permanent guest.”

Captain Valentine glared at him, then turned his eyes on Cody. “Name?”

“Cody Rogers.”

Instantly a massive hand struck his cheek and almost knocked him down. He caught his balance and remembered Shorty’s advice. “Say
sir
when you speak to a guard—any guard!” ordered the captain.

“Yes, sir, Captain. It won’t happen again.”

Valentine glared at him, and then he seemed to lose interest. Turning to a guard, he said, “Put Cavanaugh in with Taylor—Rogers with Bailey.”

Cody stood still as Danton removed the manacles, stuffed them into a bag, then turned and got back on the stage. Even before it pulled out, Cody was prodded with a stick carried by a heavyset guard. “This way, you two.”

Cody and Shorty moved obediently toward the large two-story building that loomed before them. Looking around, Cody saw that it was in the middle of one of the most barren and arid spots he’d ever seen. Even in the falling darkness he saw that the desert stretched away beyond the eye’s sight.
Guards could spot a man five miles off,
he thought, but when the guard prodded him again, he turned his head and followed Shorty inside the gate. The prison was built around a large square yard, and the guard led them at once to one of the doors. “New prisoners for A, Mulligan,” he called out, and there was the sound of a heavy bolt scraping. When the door opened, the guard said, “This little one goes with Taylor, the young one with Bailey.”

“Okay,” answered Mulligan, stepping aside as they entered.

Two guards stood inside, and one of them said, “Brad, you take them to lockup, will you?” as he slammed the door shut. Both men carried shotguns, which they kept leveled at the two new prisoners.

“You two, up those stairs.”

“Ah, I always like the second floor,” Shorty remarked. “More air in the night.” After walking past a few cells with prisoners curiously staring out, he was ordered to stop. The guard produced a chain full of keys and unlocked the cell, pushing open the steel door. Shorty stepped inside, saying, “Be seeing you, Cody.”

“Get down the hall,” the guard commanded, giving Cody a shove. When they had walked by what seemed like many cells, the command came, “Stop right there. Turn around and I’ll cut you in half!” Cody stood very still as the guard fumbled with the key. Finally the door creaked open and the guard said, “In with you.”

Turning, Cody stepped into the cell, and the door swung shut. As the key turned, it grated on Cody’s nerves, and he stood there, trembling from fatigue and fear.

“Just get in?” said a voice behind him.

Cody whirled to see by the faint light of a lantern in the hall a man sitting up on his bunk. “Yeah. Name’s Cody Rogers.”

“Al Bailey.” The response was spare, and after a silence, he said, “You missed chow. I got a hunk of bread and some bacon.”

Cody discovered he was hungry, but he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to be a moocher.”

“Sit down,” Bailey said and began searching for something. When he came up with a small package, he handed it to Cody. “Go on, eat it.”

For a moment, it looked as if he was about to hand it back. Instead, Cody slowly unwrapped it and muttered, “Thanks.”

Bailey watched as he devoured the small fragments, gulping them down. Then he said, “Water in the bucket to wash it down.” After Cody had drunk freely of the tepid water, he asked, “Been a long trip?”

“Three days.”

“First time in for you?” asked Bailey.

“First time,” muttered Cody.

Bailey pointed, saying, “Take the bottom bunk. You’re
bigger than me.” He ignored Cody’s protest, saying, “You’re probably tired, and we’ll be rousted out at dawn. Get some sleep.”

Cody suddenly discovered that the pressures of the last three days were catching up with him. He sat down on the bunk and pulled his boots off, which seemed to weigh twenty pounds apiece. He lay down with a groan of relief, and sleep came to him so suddenly it was as if he’d been clubbed.

Al Bailey stared at his new cellmate and shook his head.

“Welcome to the Rock, Cody,” he murmured softly.

****

“Come along, Rogers—you got visitors.”

Cody straightened up with surprise and stared at Captain Valentine. Cody had been building a stone wall for a new addition, and his hands were raw from handling the sharp rocks. “Visitors for me, Captain?”

“Come on, go get cleaned up.” Jocko Valentine grinned at Cody wolfishly. “Can’t have folks thinking we don’t take good care of you men, can we now?”

Cody moved quickly, not forgetting to say, “Thank you, sir.” He’d taken the advice of Shorty Cavanaugh and Al Bailey, and had lasted six months inside with no trouble. Early on he’d seen the brutal treatment a couple of prisoners had received for mouthing off at the guards. After that he’d decided to be the most polite convict at the Rock, and ever since, even Valentine had stopped watching him for an escape attempt. Quickly, Cody washed up at the pump, put his shirt on, and then followed Valentine to the south wing. He had been there on cleaning detail, and when Jocko nodded at a door, he entered. Inside he found Dan and his mother seated at a table.

“Here he is,” Valentine nodded. “You’ve got thirty minutes.”

Dan and Hope rose, and both were shocked at the sight of Cody, though they tried to conceal it. He had lost weight and was burned a rich copper hue from the blistering sun.
His hair was cropped short, and his face was concealed behind a beard.

“Son!” Hope said and moved toward him. She embraced him, and for a moment she feared that he would stand there motionless—and then his arms went around her, and she held him fiercely. The two stood there holding each other, and as Dan watched, a hollow sadness filled his heart.

Finally Hope stepped back, and Dan moved forward to grip Cody’s shoulder. It was thin but muscled like whipcord. “Good to see you, son,” he said.

Cody stood there, trying to cover the sudden surge of emotion that flooded him. He was so accustomed to keeping things inside that he could not speak or react as he wished. “Well, it’s good to see you both. You’re looking good.”

“Sit down, Cody,” Hope said quickly. “We brought you some things to eat, and Captain Valentine said we could give them to you.”

And he’ll take them away as soon as they’re outside the gate.
Cody took a piece of cake Hope forced on him and ate it slowly. “That’s real good, Mom,” he said. “You always were the best cook in the world.” Then he said, “Tell me about everything.”

For ten minutes he listened as they brought him up to date on what had happened. Finally Dan cleared his throat and said, “Son, my brother Mark came to see us. I wrote him about your trouble, and he came as soon as he could.” Dan’s eyes were hopeful as he continued, “He’s hired a private detective, Cody—a good one.”

“What does the detective say?” Cody asked.

“Oh, we don’t know him,” Hope said. “He wants to remain unknown. But he’ll find out the truth about the murder. I’m sure he will.”

“That was good of Mark. Thank him for me, will you?” said Cody as he finished eating what they had brought.

Hope felt a sense of despair at the deadness in Cody’s
voice.
He doesn’t believe in anything anymore.
“It’ll be all right, Cody, you’ll see.”

“We’ve been praying mighty hard for you, and so have all the family. Tom and his bunch, especially. And that girl of theirs, Laurie? She wrote your mother the best letter. You got one, too, didn’t you?”

“We don’t get much mail,” Cody shrugged. “They throw most of the letters away. Don’t ever send money, because I’ll never see it.”

Dan sensed the futility of trying to change Cody in one brief visit, so for the few remaining minutes, he and Hope tried to be as cheerful as they could. When the guard stepped inside and said, “Sorry—time’s up, folks,” they quickly arose and went to Cody.

Holding him tightly, Hope whispered, “Please—don’t give up on God, Cody!”

He didn’t answer, but he squeezed her tightly. When he turned to the tall man beside her, he said, “You’ve always been a real dad to me, Dan—better than any real father I might have had.” He hesitated, then added, “Best if you just forget about me,” then turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

“He didn’t mean that, Hope,” Dan said, putting his arm around her. “He’s just discouraged. He’ll be all right when we get him out of this place.” He led her out of the door, and she kept her tears back until they got into the buggy that Dan had rented. She sat straight, the tears running down her face, but she turned to Dan and said quietly, “God will deliver him, Dan. I
know
it!”

But there was no such hope in Cody, and that night when he and Al Bailey talked about the visit, Cody expressed his true feelings. “My folks think they can get me out of here,” he said. “But they’re wrong. If I ever get out of here, it’ll be over the wall.”

“You know how that goes,” Al said softly.

“Better be killed by Apaches than rot in this place!”

Bailey was silent for a long time, then said, “I feel the same way—and I’m goin’ out, Cody!”

At once Cody leaped out of his bunk and stood up, peering into Bailey’s face. “Mean it, Al? You’re really going to try for it?”

Bailey nodded. “Been making plans for a long time, but never found a man I’d trust till you came along.” He sat up, and while his legs dangled over the bunk, he began to speak rapidly. “It’ll be tough, but it can be done, Cody. Now, here’s the way I’ve got it figured . . .”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Race With Death

“It’ll never work, Al—we must be crazy!”

Al Bailey turned his light blue eyes on Cody, snapping angrily, “You been hollering for a month to make this break. Now come on and keep your mouth shut!”

The two men had just left the main building, entering the crowded open compound called “The Yard.” It was a busy place, filled with men standing in small groups talking, while others walked around getting their exercise. A babbling sound of voices filled the air, and Cody stared around nervously as the two walked steadily on the outer perimeter of the square. Looking up, he saw the guards with shotguns and hunting rifles lining the roof of the building and shook his head in a jerky motion, saying, “Al, it’s broad open
daylight!
Those guards can see everything we do!”

“We’ve been over that a hundred times. Every escape that’s ever been tried here took place at
night.
They’ve gotten careless in the daytime, Cody, but they tighten up as soon as the sun sets. So we’ll outfox ’em by taking off when they’re not looking for anything.”

“They’re
always
looking for something,” Cody muttered, then shot an embarrassed glance toward his companion. “Sorry, Al,” he said apologetically. “I’m being a pain in the neck.”

Bailey grinned slightly, shrugging his frail shoulders before asking, “Want to back out, Cody?”

“No—I’m in, Al. Just got a little case of buck fever, I
guess.” He took two more steps, which brought them to the wall, then wheeled and started toward the other end of the yard. “You got the liquor?” he asked, his eyes running over the guards who lounged on the roof.

“In the infirmary, all doped up.”

“You dope it up with that stuff you been stealing?”

“Laudanum. I put enough in there to put an elephant down.”

“I don’t want an elephant down, just those three Apaches.”

Their plan to break out was based on the simple fact that Al Bailey worked in the prison infirmary. Weeks ago when he’d first told Cody about his plan, he’d said, “Cody, we can get outside the walls—but nobody makes it to the train. Can’t no man shake them Apaches. So for a long time I been stealing booze and laudanum. What we do is dose the whiskey with the laudanum and get the Indians to drink it. I guarantee they won’t be chasing
anybody
for at least twenty-four hours.”

It had sounded fine, but now that the actual moment had come, both men were nervous. Both of them understood that it was life or death. “They’ll bury us in the Oven till we cook if they take us alive,” Bailey reminded Cody. “If they don’t kill us first.”

“They’ll have to kill me,” Cody snapped, his jaw tense. “Better be dead than buried in this forsaken hole!” He glanced up at the sun, then said, “It’s time, don’t you think, Al?”

“Guess so. Let’s do it.”

Breaking the pattern of their walk Al headed for the door that was open. Inside, the two guards looked up with surprise. “What’s wrong with you two? Don’t need the exercise?”

“Cody is feeling sick, Mr. Danner,” Al said. “Want him to see the doc before he leaves for lunch.” The guard nodded languidly, and told the two inmates to make their way to the infirmary. When they got there, Bailey tried the door, which was locked.

“He’s gone,” Cody sighed with relief. “See if that key will work, Al.”

Bailey removed a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, then turned it. As the lock made a click, he nodded, “Took me a month to make this key. Come on—” The two men stepped inside, and Bailey quickly moved to a deep cabinet along one wall. Opening the door, he moved bottles and beakers with a clinking sound, then straightened up. “Here it is,” he said with relief, holding up a brown bottle holding a quart of liquid. “I was worried that somebody might have found it.” Taking the top off, he smelled it, then held the bottle forward. “Smells like booze, don’t it, Cody? Laudanum don’t have a strong smell.”